An  Address  given  at  the 
Annual  Meeting  of  the 
Home  Missions  Council 
January  14th,  1920,  by 

Bishop  Hugh  L.  Burleson 
of  South  Dakota 


Indian 


156  Fifth  Avenue 
New  York 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 
in  2016 


https://archive.org/details/soulofindianOOburl 


The  Soul  of  the  Indian 


Bishop  Hugh  L.  Burleson  of  South  Dakota. 


I believe,  Mr.  Chairman,  it  was  a dweller  of  California 
who  was  also  accused  of  exaggeration,  and  replied  by  say- 
ing that  it  was  impossible  to  exaggerate  the  beauties  of  the 
climate  of  California. 

You  have  done  everything  tonight,  thus  far,  to  make  me 
feel  at  home.  Dr.  Thompson  has  reminded  me  that  I am 
back  in  my  old  home,  has  assured  me  that  the  deaf  old 
fellows  will  stay  to  the  bitter  end,  has  arranged  *to  have  a 
gathering  of  ladies,  such  as  I am  accustomed  to  speak  to 
in  our  church,  and  has  even  seen  to  it  that  the  waiters  pass 
the  contribution  plate.  So  surely  I ought  to  be  able  now, 
with  a good  heart,  to  go  on  with  the  topic  that  is  set 
before  me. 

I have  my  watch  out.  It  is  not  necessary  to  remind  me 
further  that  you  are  at  the  end  of  a long  day,  and  have  had 
many  committee  meetings,  and  that  it  is  only  under  great 
stress,  strain  and  determination  that  you  are  remaining  to 
hear  me.  I shall  try  to  make  the  ordeal  easy. 

It  is  a very  audacious  white  man  who  attempts  to  talk 
about  the  soul  of  the  Indian ! and  yet  perhaps  after  thirty 
years  in  more  or  less  close  contact  with  Indian  life— because 
my  father  was  a missionary  on  an  Indian  reservation,  and  it 
is  almost  thirty  years  ago  that  I was  adopted  into  an  Indian 
tribe,  and  I have  two  Indian  names,  and  am  the  bishop  of 
more  Indians  than  all  the  other  bishops  of  the  Episcopal 
Church  put  together — because  of  these  things  I may  feel 
privileged,  perhaps,  to  delve  into  the  habit,  life  and  thought 
of  the  first  Americans. 

Most  of  us  realize,  at  times,  how  prone  we  are  to  judge 
other  people  by  our  own  background  and  our  own  frame- 
work. I believe  therein  lies  the  failure  of  a good  deal  of  our 
missionary  work.  We  are  condescending  to  people ; we  are 
passing  them  something  from  a superior  height ; we  who 
know  so  much,  and  are  so  much,  and  have  so  much,  are 
handing  it  down  to  somebody  less  fortunate.  All  that  may 
be  true,  but  the  trouble  is  that  we  want  to  hand  down  not 
only  the  facts,  but  our  interpretation  of  the  facts.  We  want 
people  not  only  to  take  Christianity,  but  to  take  the  same 


brand,  color,  kind  and  complexion  that  we  have  ourselves 
discovered;  and  if  they  fail,  we  feel  there  must  be  something 
wrong  with  them.  We  have  tried  by  governmental  processed 
to  make  just  a fair  average  white  man  out  of  the  Indian. 
W e have  not  succeeded,  I am  glad  to  say,  and  I hope  we 
never  shall,  because  to  try  to  make  a white  man  out  of  an 
Indian  is  to  spoil  a perfectly  good  Indian  without  making  a 
very  satisfactory  white  man.  The  same  situation  exists  with 
regard  to  the  Negro.  In  other  words,  we  have  our  own 
racial  way  of  understanding  things,  and  we  must  remember, 
when  we  are  thinking  of  other  races,  to  think  of  them  in 
terms  of  their  own  surroundings,  their  own  experience  and 
their  own  ideals  of  life.  The  misunderstandings  between  the 
Government  and  Indian  peoples,  the  misunderstandings  be- 
tween the  Indian  peoples  and  their  white  neighbors,  have 
largely  been  a matter  of  this  lack  of  orientation,  this  inability 
to  know  what  the  other  man  is  thinking  about,  and  why  he 
thinks  as  he  does.  Back  of  the  things  that  seem  unintelligi- 
ble to  us,  there  is  in  the  Indian  a different  quality  of  soul, 
a different  attitude  toward  life,  a differing  concept  of  things. 

When  I became  a Secretarj-  of  our  Board  of  Missions, 
one  of  the  first  things  I had  to  do  was  to  go  over  our  lantern 
slides,  which  were  sent  out  free,  and  I tackled  the  set  on 
the  Indians.  Of  course  it  began  with  a picture  of  a war 
dance — a very  poor  picture  of  a verj'  impossible  war  dance, 
but  it  served  the  purpose  of  opening  up  the  subject — and 
then  pretty  soon  it  passed  to  another  picture ; two  pictures 
on  the  same  slide,  with  the  legend  “before  and  after.”  One 
was  the  Indian  before  Christianity  had  touched  him  and  the 
other  after  the  light  had  reached  him.  The  picture  repre- 
senting the  Indian  before  Christianity,  showed  a tepee  out 
on  the  Dakota  prairies,  with  an  Indian  squaw  splitting  wood 
near  the  door  of  the  tepee,  while  in  the  background  an 
Indian  man  sat  smoking  his  pipe.  The  after-Christianity 
view  was  a picture  of  an  Indian  family  crossing  a river, 
the  woman  sitting  in  the  stern  of  the  boat,  the  man  pulling 
the  oars.  That  was  the  effect  of  Christianity  upon  Indian 
life ! It  made  the  man  get  up,  lay  down  his  pipe  and  row 
his  wife  across  the  river!  I broke  that  slide,  then  and 
there.  In  the  first  place,  it  was  a pitiful  comparison  even 
if  true — and  it  was  not  true.  It  was  based  entirely  on  our 
conception  of  a division  of  domestic  service — the  kind  of 
thing  a man  ought  to  do,  and  the  sort  of  thing  that  seems 
a woman’s  task.  It  had  nothing  whatever  to  do  with  the 
Christian  faith.  It  would  be  just  as  sensible  to  show  an 
Irishman  smoking  his  pipe  in  the  kitchen  while  his  wife 
washed  the  dishes.  In  the  Indian  conception  of  life  there  is 


no  more  reason  for  the  first  than  for  the  second.  It  is 
merely  a question  of  customs  and  conventions.  It  is  through 
that  kind  of  picture  and  that  sort  of  background  that  we 
have  interpreted  the  soul  of  the  Indian.  So  many  times  we 
have  taken  some  little,  inconspicuous,  unnecessary  thing,  that 
was  not  related  to  the  real,  deep  questions  involved,  and 
have  made  it  the  basis  upon  which  we  judge  a whole  race. 
Or  we  have  taken  something  which  to  us  meant  one  thing 
and  to  the  Indian  another,  and  have  based  our  judgment  on 
that. 

In  the  soul  of  the  Indian,  as  I have  seen  it — and  some  of 
them  have  let  me  look, — I find  qualities  which  are  at  first 
sight  surprising. 

First,  I believe  the  Indian  is  a far  more  naturally  religious 
person  than  the  white  man.  I think  the  Almighty  God  has 
His  hardest  job  with  the  Anglo-Saxon  race.  It  is  awfully 
hard  for  us  to  be  really  religious.  Dr.  Anthony  accuses  me 
of  having  said  in  my  speech  in  Wichita  that  you  cannot  be 
a Christian  in  New  York.  That  was  not  quite  correct.  I 
have  lived  in  New  York  and  I claim  to  be  a Christian.  But 
1 did  say  that  it  is  mighty  hard  to  be  a Christian  in  New 
York.  It  is  hard  anywhere.  Yet  one  reason  why  the- 
Indian  is  a naturally  religious  person  is  because  he  does  not 
live  in  New  York.  He  is  out  there  on  the  plains,  living  the 
life  of  the  open,  the  life  of  God’s  big  world,  under  the  free 
sky  and  on  the  broad  prairie;  and  it  is  so  much  easier  to 
believe  in  God  when  you  are  in  His  home  than  when  you  are 
separated  from  Him  by  scores  of  secondary  causes.  It  is  a 
great  deal  easier  to  believe  in  the  cow  when  you  see  her 
milked  than  if  you  get  your  milk  from  the  milkman.  We 
are  living  in  a wilderness  of  brick  and  mortar,  and  in  the 
midst  of  a mass  of  machinery  set  up  to  make  life  good.  The 
Indian  is  nearer  the  deep  springs  of  life,  and  he  realizes 
that  back  of  them  are  eternal  purposes  and  eternal  love. 
.-\nd  so  perhaps  it  is  not  because  he  is  of  a different  nature 
that  he  is  naturally  religious,  but  because  he  has  the  simpler 
surroundings  which  we  cannot  have.  Yet  I do  think  that 
there  is  an  instinctive  spirit  of  religion  in  the  Indian  people. 

I have  never  seen  an  Indian  who  was  not  a believer  in 
God.  Yet  we  think  of  going  to  the  Indian  as  a heathen 
race.  They  have  had  God  always,  in  their  daily  life.  The 
God  they  believed  in  was  the  Great  Spirit.  When  the 
Indian  went  out  of  the  door  of  his  tepee  in  the  morning, 
he  said  his  prayer  to  the  Spirit  who  sent  the  sun;  when  he 
smoked  his  pipe  he  raised  it  to  the  four  quarters  of  the 
globe  and  murmured  a prayer  to  the  Spirit  who  sent  him  the 
good  things  of  life.  Most  of  the  Indian  dances  that  we  talk 


about  had  a religious  significance.  Religion  went  along  with 
the  experiences  of  his  life.  God  was  near  by.  So  the  first 
thing  I find  in  the  soul  of  the  Indian  is  a very  simple  dis- 
position to  believe  in  God,  to  accept  the  concept  of  the 
spiritual  back  of  the  material. 

Then,  perhaps  because  of  that,  perhaps  as  a part  of  it,  the 
next  thing  in  the  Indian  soul  that  I see  is  sensibility — a keen 
quickness  of  perception  of  the  relations  and  the  portent  of 
things.  "You  know,  people  think  that  an  Indian  is  stolid  and 
stupid ; that  he  does  not  smile,  and  cannot  laugh,  and  does 
not  discriminate.  It  is  Anglo-Saxon  dullness  and  stupidity 
that  makes  us  believe  that.  I am  constantly  impressed  with 
the  thought  that  they  must  be  laughing  at  us  for  under- 
standing them  so  little.  I will  tell  you,  for  example,  what 
we  have  done  for  the  Indian  toward  interpreting  him  to  our 
race  and  to  history ; the  kind  of  picture  we  have  written  of 
him,  the  kind  of  person  we  have  said  he  was,  the  way  we 
have  recorded  his  soul  on  canvas  and  in  story  books  and 
histories.  You  know  how  you  thought  about  an  Indian  in 
the  days  when  you  read  the  United  States  histor}'  with  such 
care  and  such  difficulty.  The  Indian  was,  to  you,  a sort  of 
tiger,  a person  of  tremendous,  tireless  patience  and  relentless 
cruelty;  a beast  of  prey,  not  a human  being.  I remember, 
as  I read  the  stories  of  him,  how  fearfully  I admired  him, 
as  I would  some  stealthy  panther;  a splendid  thing,  but  an 
inhuman  thing.  Well,  the  Indian  conducted  warfare  accord- 
ing to  his  fashion,  but  I had  a letter  from  one  of  our  Sioux 
boys,  one  of  a fine  group  of  Indians,  who  had  gone  over  with 
the  army  to  France,  and  he  gave  a suggestive  comment  on 
modern  warfare.  He  said : “I  tr}^  to  do  everything  they  tell 
me,  but  some  of  it  seems  awful  bloodthirsty!”  The  Indians 
volunteered  far  more  generously  and  promptly  than  the  white 
boys.  Not  a single  district  that  included  an  Indian  reserva- 
tion in  South  Dakota  had  to  resort  to  the  draft,  because  the 
Indian  boys  volunteered  so  promptly.  The  first  soldier  of 
South  Dakota  to  receive  a decoration  in  France  was  Chauncey 
Eagle-Horn,  who  afterwards  gave  his  life  for  his  countr}' 
and  lies  under  one  of  those  wooden  crosses  in  France.  He 
was  a son  of  men  who  fought  against  our  own  flag  under 
Red  Cloud  and  Sitting  Bull. 

Yet,  we  have  thought  of  the  Indian  as  a stupid,  a stolid, 
an  inhuman  thing.  The  Indian  in  warfare  was  only  trying 
to  defend  himself.  Put  yourself  in  his  place.  Think  what 
your  soul  would  have  been  under  the  same  circumstances. 
Y'e  thought  of  him  as  a dull  person,  of  small  understanding, 
when  all  the  time  we  have  been  dull  ourselves.  The  Indian’s 
problem  is  you  and  me.  He  can  be  whatever  you  and  I 


think  he  can  be.  His  capacities  are  fine,  but  they  do  not 
get  an  outlet  unless  we  believe  in  him. 

I want  to  show  you  what  we  have  done  to  him  in  some 
respects.  There  is  the  matter  of  our  translation  of  his 
language.  Some  instances  of  our  interpretation  of  his  names 
will  point  a moral.  How  about,  “Young-Man-Afraid-of-His- 
Horse?”  There  is  stupidity,  not  in  the  man  who  chose  the 
name,  but  in  the  white  man  who  made  the  translation.  This 
was  a young  warrior  of  such  valor  and  dauntlessness  that 
the  enemy  was  afraid,  not  only  of  him,  but  even  of  his 
horse  when  it  appeared  on  the  horizon.  There  is  some 
sense  in  that.  Yet  the  white  man  called  him  “Young-Man- 
Afraid-of-His-Horse.” 

Another  example : A Chippewa  chief  lies  buried  on  a 
reservation  in  Minnesota,  and  the  stone  over  his  grave  bears 
the  name  “Hole-in-the-Day.”  Silly,  absolutely  silly ! Again 
the  misunderstanding  white  man.  “Hole-in-the-Day”  was 
the  son  of  a young  Chippewa  chief  who  started  on  the  war- 
path against  my  people,  the  Dakotas.  He  had  been  rnarried 
but  a few  months  to  his  young  bride  and  he  wished  to  make 
a splendid  record  as  a leader.  It  was  the  first  time  he  had 
led  the  war  party,  and  he  led  with  courage  and  strategy,  but 
adventured  himself  so  bravely,  that  the  whole  party  came 
back  victorious  but  brought  their  dead  chief  with  them. 
Shortly  afterward  the  son  was  born,  and  his  mourning 
mother  called  him,  “Rift-in-the-Cloud.”  It  is  a picture-name. 
A long  dark  day  of  cloud  and  rain,  and  shadow  and  sobbing 
trees;  then,  just  as  the  sun  sets,  its  rays  break  through  a 
rift  in  the  cloud  and  shine  out  across  the  plain.  The  little 
lad  was  a rift  in  the  cloud  of  her  sorrow  and  we  called  him 
“Hole-in-the-Day.”  And  when  he  was  dead,  we  put  a two- 
ton  monument  on  him  and  wrote  “Hole-in-the-Day”  on  that. 
Such  is  our  hopeless  white  stupidity. 

Thirty  years  ago  my  father  was  a missionary  on  the 
Oneida  reservation.  I had  a little  sister,  whose  blue  eyes 
and  golden  hair  and  sunny,  sweet  disposition  completely 
won  the  hearts  of  the  Indians.  They  gave  her  the  name  of 
Gajajawox.  I tried  to  find  out  what  it  meant,  but  the  old 
Indian  smiled  and  shook  his  head,  and  said  “No  put  in 
white  man  talk.”  The  words  did  not  fit,  you  see.  Again  it 
was  a picture.  We  do  not  call  things  by  pictures,  we  call 
them  by  names  of  so  many  letters.  We  have  a very  stifif 
and  definite  way  of  calling  things,  but  the  Indian  draws  a 
picture  for  a name.  The  picture  they  thought  of  in  con- 
nection with  my  little  sister  was  this : the  wind  blowing 
over  a field  of  flowers  and  bringing  you  the  perfume  as  it 


came — the  perfume  of  flowers  borne  on  the  summer  breeze. 
Well,  we  would  not  have  thought  of  a name  like  that  and 
the  white  man,  if  she  had  been  an  Indian  maiden,  would 
have  called  her,  “Smell-on-the-Breeze !”  He  certainly  would ; 
it  is  so  simple  and  literal.  It  is  impossible  for  us  to  give  an 
accurate  interpretation  of  that  Mohawk  name,  and  we  are 
unable  to  get  at  the  sensibilities,  and  the  artistic  touch,  and 
the  conceptions  of  beauty  and  of  order  that  lie  in  the  soul  of 
the  Indian.  But  let  us  believe  in  these  things,  for  they  are 
there. 

The  next  thing  which  I find  in  the  soul  of  the  Indian  is 
something  which  we  are  trying  to  recognize  and  minister  to, 
but  which  we  should  have  recognized  sooner.  Deep  down 
in  the  soul  of  the  Indian,  as  in  the  white  man,  there  is  a 
real  ambition,  a desire  for  leadership,  a wish  to  do  and  to 
accomplish.  In  many  ways  still  it  is  the  undeveloped  desire 
of  a child,  and  he  does  not  know  just  what  it  is  he  longs 
for,  but  the  Indian  wants  to  lead,  and  we  have  not  been 
quick  enough  in  giving  him  leadership.  ■ That,  perhaps,  is 
one  of  our  common  failures  in  missionary  policy  among 
foreign  people.  For  the  Indian  problem  is  a foreign  problem, 
and  labor  in  the  Dakotas  is  a good  preparation  for  work  in 
China  or  Japan.  We  have  hesitated  to  give  responsibility. 
We  have  felt  that  the  white  man  must  hold  things  in  his 
own  hands.  We  have  not  been  willing  to  trust  God  with 
the  souls  of  other  people.  We  have  wanted  to  keep  a 
little  hold  on  them  ourselves.  We  were  not  quite  confident 
that  the  riches  of  the  Gospel  could  be  trusted  with  these 
people  unless  we  were  nearby  to  help  them  understand.  Yet 
they  will  get  a different  message  from  ours.  God  never 
speaks  in  the  same  terms  to  two  human  souls,  nor  to  two 
different  races.  We  must  not  be  afraid  to  develop  their 
sense  of  leadership. 

I am  thankful  to  say  that  I have  inherited  the  wise 
leadership  of  a great  man.  I am  a small  person  standing 
in  the  light  of  a great  name.  William  Herbert  Hare  was 
the  first  bishop  of  South  Dakota  and  the  greatest  friend  of 
the  Indian  in  the  middle  West.  He  had  two  convictions  with 
which  he  began  his  work,  and  which  he  felt  were  absolutely 
necessary  to  success.  The  first  was  of  the  necessity  of  edu- 
cation. He  founded  schools,  and  the  most  helpful  Indian 
men  and  women  that  I have  today  were  educated  in  these 
early  mission  schools  of  Bishop  Hare.  Secondly,  he  believed 
that  you  cannot  fully  and  permanently  evangelize  a people 
except  through  men  of  their  own  race;  you  cannot  hand 
down  religion  as  we  have  sometimes  done,  saying:  “I  am 
the  man  between  these  peoples  and  God.”  We  must  intro- 


duce  Jesus  Christ  to  his  own,  and  let  His  Spirit  work  in 
them.  Yet  we  have  feared  to  trust  the  fidelity  and  intelli- 
gence of  these  people,  and  have  not  utilized  the  Indian 
capacity  for  leadership.  One  present  and  immediate  need 
is  to  develop  leadership  among  the  young  people.  The 
desire  is  there,  the  ability  is  there;  it  must  be  trained  and 
carefully  handled,  but  it  can  be  developed.  There  are 
twenty-two  Indian  priests  and  deacons  in  South  Dakota,  and 
seventy  men  who  serve  in  a lay  ministry.  Last  Sunday 
three-fourths  of  the  services  held  in  our  ninety  chapels  were 
conducted  by  laymen.  I wonder  what  would  happen  if  we 
were  to  ask  our  layman  in  the  white  field  to  render  such 
service.  The  Indian  is  naturally  religious,  he  does  not  think 
it  remarkable  to  talk  about  religion,  he  discusses  it  as  he 
would  his  crops.  One  is  as  real  to  him  as  the  other,  and  as 
important.  Yet  we  find  it  so  hard  to  talk  about  these  things 
naturally ! An  Indian  man  will  stand  up  and  make  an 
address  with  all  the  simplicity  and  dignity  and  directness 
that  you  can  imagine.  He  may  be  totally  uneducated,  but 
he  can  tell  you  in  an  effective  way  what  religion  means  to 
him.  So  leadership  is  possible  among  the  Indians  and 
leadership  in  religion  is  already  developed. 

And  then,  down  in  the  soul  of  the  Indian,  besides  these 
things,  I think  there  is — what  may  I call  it? — the  ability  to 
stand  fast ; the  integrity,  the  fundamental  something  that 
lies  at  the  roots  of  a race  which  can  be  trusted ; that  some- 
thing in  human  character  to  which  you  pin  your  faith.  It 
is  in  the  Indian  people.  It  shows  in  their  self-respect,  in 
their  dignity  of  procedure,  in  their  courtesy  towards  others. 
I am  sometimes  a little  ashamed  of  the  attitude  of  white 
men  toward  Indians,  in  contrast  with  the  courtesy  of  the 
Indians  toward  their  white  guests.  I take  people  out  occa- 
sionally to  see  my  Dakotas.  They  are  good  people,  Chris- 
tian people,  and  yet  one  could  see  they  felt  as  though  they 
were  going  to  a circus  to  see  the  animals.  But  did  my 
Indian  people  fail  to  show  courtesy  and  dignity  and  respect 
to  them?  Xot  at  all.  These  things  are  fundamental  in  the 
Indian  character.  You  never  saw  an  Indian  who  was  know- 
ingly  grotesque,  or  absurd,  or  foolish,  or  lacking  in  self- 
respect. 

And  so  I contend  that  in  the  soul  of  the  Indian  are  deep 
principles  of  character,  tremendous  possibilities  of  life  and 
service  that  ver>'  few  of  us  understand  because  we  have 
approached  life  from  a different  angle.  The  angle  is  this : 
The  Indian  is  a natural  communist.  By  which  I mean  that 
the  Indian  thinks  in  terms  of  his  group.  The  white  man 
always  thinks  of  himself  first  and  his  group  last.  W'e 


approach  things  from  the  view-point  of  the  individual.  The 
Indian’s  point  of  view  is  that  of  the  group;  his  relation  to 
and  his  responsibility  for  the  group.  He  thinks  in  group 
terms.  He  has  a socialized  concept  of  life.  Society  has 
been  a definite  thing  to  which  he  was  responsible.  The 
family  life  and  the  tribe  life  have  an  immediate  bearing  upon 
all  his  actions. 

Many  of  the  things  that  you  and  I cannot  understand  are 
explained  by  this  truth.  The  only  missionary  of  our  Church 
in  South  Dakota  ever  killed  by  Indians  was  a white  priest. 
He  was  shot  by  two  Indians  who  had  never  seen  him  before, 
and  to  whom  he  had  done  no  wrong.  Apparently  an  utterly 
criminal  murder — simply  the  bloodthirsty  desire  to  kill ! 
What  other  explanation  could  there  be?  So  the  white  man 
writes  the  histories,  and  this  is  the  answer  he  gives.  Xow, 
nobody  excuses  that  act.  But  it  was  committed  by  two 
Indian  men  who  had  received  a very  terrible  wrong  at  the 
hands  of  a white  man.  In  their  rebellion  of  soul  they  swore 
that  when  they  got  out  of  jail,  where  the  white  man  had 
finally  landed  them,  they  would  kill  the  first  white  man  they 
met.  Was  there  no  excuse  for  them?  No,  none  whatever, 
except  that  back  in  their  consciousness  was  a sense  of  the 
responsibility  of  a group  for  the  actions  of  the  individuals 
who  compose  it.  They  held  the  white  group  responsible  for 
the  white  man’s  sin.  That  was  a part  of  their  past  history. 
They  were  unjustified,  of  course,  absolutely  wrong, — but 
back  of  their  act  was  a deep-rooted  sense  of  justice, — per- 
verted, mistaken,  but  growing  out  of  a communal  sense  of 
society’s  responsibility  for  those  who  compose  it.  They 
viewed  the  matter  from  a side  exactly  opposite  to  ours. 
They  had  no  quarrel  with  the  individual,  they  simply  be- 
lieved they  were  avenging  a wrong  that  had  been  done  to 
them  by  white  men.  Just  bear  that  in  mind,  if  you  will, 
then,  in  your  judgments  of  the  Indian  peoples.  Remember 
that  we  are  approaching  the  problems  of  life  from  exactly 
the  opposite  angle,  and  that  a great  many  of  the  things  which 
to  us  appear  strange  and  unaccountable  and  wrong-side-out, 
may  be  explained  if  you  will  remember  that  the  Indian  is 
the  product  of  a communized  social  order,  and  we  are  the 
product  of  an  individualized  social  order. 

Take  the  thriftlessness  in  the  old  days.  Then  a man 
would  go  out,  be  successful  in  his  hunting,  and  eat  up  what 
he  had  killed  all  in  one  day.  Wastefulness  we  call  it; ‘and 
in  a way  that  is  true.  But  the  point  was  this : he  brought 
in  his  deer  or  his  buffalo,  took  what  was  necessary  for  his 
family,  and  then  anybody  in  the  group  could  come  and  take 
what  he  needed.  The  hunter  did  not  feel  that  success  had 


come  to  him  and  to  his  alone.  He  did  not  say,  “Go  to,  I 
must  store  this  up  for  my  own  family  in  the  days  to  come.” 
He  held  that  he  had  had  success  for  the  sake  of  the  group, 
and  that  it  was  theirs  as  much  as  it  was  his. 

Of  course,  the  Indian  must  learn  some  new  viewpoints  if 
he  is  going  to  compete  with  the  white  man  in  civilized  life. 
He  must  be  able  to  meet  the  white  man  on  his  own  ground. 
But  it  is  hard  to  make  an  Indian  believe  that  mere  possession 
of  a thing  constitutes  an  absolute  ownership,  if  someone 
needs  it  more  than  he — and  I don’t  know  but  that  he  is 
right.  Indeed,  I hope  we  are  in  the  way  of  re-adjusting  some 
of  our  ideas  of  society  and  of  economics  a little  more  to  the 
vision  of  the  Indian  soul. 

I thank  you  for  looking  with  me  thus  patiently  into  the 
soul  of  my  brother,  the  Indian. 


Published  by 

HOME  MISSIONS  COUNCIL 

and 

Council  of  Women  for  Home  Missions 
156  FIFTH  AVENUE 
NEW  YORK 

1920 


